


a kiss is a terrible thing to waste

by chasingjupiter



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Canon Compliant, Kissing, Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi-centric, M/M, disclaimer its endgame snhn, idolverse, the entire premise is ksy kisses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:28:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25758133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasingjupiter/pseuds/chasingjupiter
Summary: Soonyoung grows up; Soonyoung gets kissed.(Alternatively, Soonyoung's first five kisses, and then some.)
Relationships: Boo Seungkwan/Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi, Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi, Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi/Everyone, Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi/Lee Jihoon | Woozi, Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi/Xu Ming Hao | The8, Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi/Yoon Jeonghan
Comments: 4
Kudos: 111





	a kiss is a terrible thing to waste

(1)

So things aren’t going to plan.

These six words frequent Soonyoung’s mind, more so as their next evaluation approaches. Whenever he feels a bruising pain attempting a new dance move and clutches it tightly to alleviate the pain. Whenever he’s staring down their little triangle of sweat-drowned boys, noting the asymmetry. Whenever he rubs his eyes sleepily and checks to see if his cheeks have slimmed down.

He feels grimy all the time, walled in by an unforgiving green, and the cameras follow him mercilessly. When he feels just about ready to cry; when he needs to fix the fit of his pants; when he can’t help but stare straight at Seungcheol from afar.

He figures it can’t be all that risky at this point, but still he feels scrutinized at every moment. For someone who has always been praised as idol material, as camera friendly, it might seem melodramatic. Sometimes, though, he wishes he could curl up in the corner and stare his fill. His eyes greedily follow the jut of Seungcheol’s chin, the robust set of his shoulders. Seungcheol is handsome and every part the leader they know he will be. Soonyoung thinks he must have cried to Seungcheol a million times in the past months, and in return he has received a million million words of comfort.

It’s not fair. He wishes Seungcheol would come to him with his worries and fears, his insecurities and cravings. Not even Seungcheol’s broad shoulders can bear the weight for this long.

His wish comes true two days before the evaluation. They’re holed up in the small practice room where most of the members won’t see them. Soonyoung fiddles absently with the keyboard and hums to warm up his voice. He can’t put a name to the notes but just follows along, matching each pitch as best as he can. Seungcheol stays quiet beside him, his chin resting on his knee.

“Aren’t you scared?”

Soonyoung hits an awkward note, clears his throat hastily. “Of what?”

“You know. The evaluation.” Seungcheol’s voice is thick. It scares him. It’s not fragile, on the verge of breaking, but it is tired. Not a rubber band about to snap but a rubber band that has been played with a few times too many.

“I am,” he says. “I think I always am. After this evaluation, I’ll be scared of the next. And the next. And so on.”

Seungcheol adjusts his perch on the folding chair, twisting and lifting his eyes to check Soonyoung’s expression. “You never seem scared.”

“That’s ‘cause I always am,” Soonyoung supplies. “You’ve just never seen me  _ not  _ scared.”

“There are times, though. When you seem so confident, endlessly bright. Maybe you don’t see them, but I do.” The older rubs his eyes and sighs. “Like when you’re messing around with the others and just having fun. It’s great to see. And when you start dancing, not for the evaluation, but just out of your own will, it’s awe-inspiring. Every bone of your body was meant to do that. Then you don’t look scared.”

Soonyoung doesn’t know what to say. He hadn’t seen that. He had been surrounded by mirrors for the past, what, four years, and he had never seen that.

“How do you do that?”

The air feels swollen, like the very atoms around them are inflating, pushing against each other, pushing into every one of Soonyoung’s pores. “Do what?” he croaks. He feels like there is a living loaf of sourdough in the air, rising and inundating the room. 

“Shine. Not be scared. I don’t know. Be yourself.”

“Myself?” Soonyoung echoes, unsure. “Well, how do you do it?”

“I don’t think I do,” Seungcheol says roughly. “I don’t feel like myself, sometimes. Maybe I don’t even know who I am. Or who I’m pretending to be. All I know about myself is that I’m scared, all the time. For myself and for all of you.”

Soonyoung turns his back to the keyboard, and the lone camera. He faces Seungcheol and carefully holds his shoulders, forcing the older to meet his eyes. He tells him, “That is you. Even the fear and the people you think you pretend to be. All of it is you. The Seungcheol I know is strong—not in the superficial way, but in the most profound. You are strong for us, and you give strength to us. You may believe that you are pretending, but you are the most real person I know.”

Seungcheol blinks, quickly, then slowly. He looks down, and Soonyoung watches him cautiously, afraid to have made things worse. “Hyung?”

He looks up. “Thank you,” he whispers, a wisp of a phrase, words torn at the edges and taped together. “Soonyoung, seriously, thank you.” And as Soonyoung watches, a tear makes a bid to escape down Seungcheol’s cheek. 

Soonyoung leans in, curls his fingers up to tangle in Seungcheol’s hair, and kisses away the tear, just as it pools onto his lips.

(2)

The fifteenth of June marks Soonyoung’s third birthday as a Seventeen member.

They’re in the midst of preparing for their upcoming tour. Exciting as it is, all of the members welcome the early end of practice for Soonyoung’s birthday. He figures they’re too tired to really celebrate, but at least they all go out for dinner and, without argument, cover the cost of his own meal. It’s all he could ask for, he thinks, satisfied, as they return to the dorms. The others award him the privilege of showering first, and when he’s clean and refreshed he throws himself onto his bed and sighs, relieved to be home and happy to be showered in affection and, still, tired to the bone.

He lies there for what feels like several minutes of dipping in and out of a nap. The door cracks open, and he assumes it’s just Hansol finished with his shower until he’s surprised by a weight falling upon his back, then another, and he rolls over, knowing his members, his temporary family, will spill onto the bed in fits of giggles.

Half of them fit on the bed and half of them kneel or sit on the floor just around the edges of the bed. “Happy birthday,” they chorus, Seungkwan nagging at those on the floor to move out of the way as he carries the cake in. His eyes are glowing from the blazing candles, and he announces, “Make a wish!” as he lowers the cake to before Soonyoung’s face.

He wishes for their good health and happy prospects as usual. Blowing shallowly, the candles extinguish save for one, and the members laugh as he huffs to blow it out. The cake is divided up, each member receiving a tiny slice and Soonyoung receiving a slightly larger one. The room is warm and filled with absent chatter as they eat.

The members file out once they’ve cleaned up and bid Soonyoung a good night, Seokmin and Seungkwan pressing identical kisses to his cheeks. He sighs and falls back on the bed, wondering if he really has to get up and brush his teeth again or if it’s okay to just sleep.

Before he resolves his dilemma, the creak of the door makes his eyes open sleepily. It’s Seungkwan, this time without a cake and instead with his hands folded behind his back. “Happy birthday, hyung,” he greets quietly, walking over to sit on the edge of the bed.

Out of instinct, from the many birthday wishes of the day, he replies, “Thanks.” Then, realizing this is probably the fifth time Seungkwan has said it today, “Wait, wh-”

“I have a gift for you,” Seungkwan interrupts. “It’s a little embarrassing. Come here.” His sentences are clipped awkwardly but lilt soft and lovely as characteristic of his voice. Soonyoung is visibly confused but obedient, and he sits up, criss-cross applesauce, and faces the other.

“Close your eyes,” Seungkwan commands softly, almost a whisper. When Soonyoung hesitates, he reaches for his hands and squeezes ever so gently, and Soonyoung’s lids flutter shut.

Seungkwan inches a small, hard box into their palms so it’s clasped between their hands and before Soonyoung can open his eyes, the younger leans forward and kisses him on the right side of his mouth, not quite the corner but not quite the center, either. “Happy birthday,” he says again, words diminished to breaths between their lips. Soonyoung’s tongue darts out to wet his lips; it tastes like strawberries and cream from the cake, and Seungkwan’s clementine lip balm, a mild but thick sweetness.

Before Soonyoung has the chance to ask why, Seungkwan jumps up and scurries out of the room. “Good night,” he calls as he leaves, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

Soonyoung is left there dumbfounded, contemplating the last glimpse of a somber glimmer in Seungkwan’s open, dark eyes, touching his lips in stunned silence. When he cracks open the box with his heart at a half-terrified gallop, he traces the silver bracelet in confounded awe.

(3)

It is movie night at the dorms.

Well, for some of them it is. Several of the members have emerged from their rooms to join in watching  _ Kimi no Na wa _ . It’s not Soonyoung’s first time watching—when they were younger and more interested in anime, he and Jihoon had watched it and cried for hours—so he is currently sprawled out on the couch, hanging upside-down.

His legs are hooked on the back cushions and his head precariously parallel to the floor, Chan and Minghao sitting on either side. Junhui is lying spread-out on the floor, eyes fixed on the screen, and Wonwoo is practically sitting on him, similarly focused. Hansol is working his way through a bag of chips at Chan’s feet, occasionally lifting his head to offer a witty comment that Chan shoots down with a flat stare.

No one minds Soonyoung any attention except for Minghao, who seems half-worried that he’ll fall and half-amused with his antics. He wiggles his eyebrows when he notices the younger boy’s watchful gaze, feeling pleased when he bursts into a tiny laugh.

“Stop that,” Minghao whispers, flicking the tip of his nose lightly. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

Soonyoung sticks his tongue out. “Nooo,” he whines. In retaliation, he continues making weird faces, scrunching up his nose and playing with his cheeks. It makes Minghao collapse into giggles again, and it spurs him on.

Chan looks over and scoffs. “Hyung, seriously, you might injure yourself. Myungho-hyung, don’t encourage him like that, he’ll just get worse.”

“Aw, but how can you say no to a face like this?” Minghao chuckles, clasping Soonyoung’s face with his hands, cupping his cheeks gently. With Soonyoung upside down, Minghao squishes his cheeks happily and, taken with Soonyoung’s cuteness, pecks him on the mouth firmly, cooing over how redness floods Soonyoung’s face. 

Soonyoung relaxes his legs to slide down the couch slowly, sitting up and blinking as he reorients himself. He clambers back onto the couch and situates himself in Minghao’s lap, playfully sticking out his lips. “Another, please,” he requests brightly.

Minghao giggles again, the sound buoyant. “Sorry,” he declines, pressing a finger to Soonyoung’s awaiting lips. “My kisses are in limited supply.”

From the floor, Junhui shouts, “Can I have one?” He still doesn’t lift his eyes from the screen, though, which turns out to be a poor decision, as Minghao chucks a pillow at him. Junhui makes an aggrieved noise and flops over, clinging to Wonwoo, who pats him sympathetically but diligently continues watching the movie, which Soonyoung has forgotten about completely.

(4)

“I’m sorry, I have to take this call!”

Soonyoung watches his stylist urgently dash away with her phone pressed to her ear and then forlornly realizes he is left to finish dressing alone. The button-up is fine, of course, but the tie is a little more intimidating.

He buttons up the shirt easily, then picks up the simple black tie and lets it hang limply from his hand as he stares at it in apprehension. It’s been years since they debuted but ties have always left him helpless. He’s seen the stylists do it nimbly countless times, but he has never once remembered how.

The door swings open and Soonyoung looks up, hoping his stylist has returned to save him. “Noona? Oh.” He brightens. “Jeonghan-hyung!”

Jeonghan strides in grinning, taking the tie from his hands. Soonyoung turns automatically to let Jeonghan do it for him, just as he had done years ago in their early days of promoting. He no longer feels tiny as Jeonghan loops the fabric in some convoluted magic he doesn’t understand. He’s older, taller, has broader shoulders and a chest to stick out. Still, he holds his breath as Jeonghan remains in his proximity, the very air between them sweltering.

Jeonghan stands back to admire his handiwork with a final tug, and Soonyoung, overtaken by some unnameable urge, steps forward and kisses him daringly, one swift movement smudging their lip balms together. It’s his first deep, breathless kiss—the details of touch blur into a hazy sensation—and Jeonghan pulls away reluctantly after a few seconds of fervent heat.

“Hyung,” Soonyoung gasps, both horrified and hopeful, apologies brimming from his sticky mouth.

“Don’t worry about it,” the older says gently, mussing his hair lightly before walking out of the room, leaving Soonyoung open-mouthed and flooded with embarrassed warmth. He doesn’t know what had made him do it: an underlying desire for his beautiful, out-of-reach hyung? Or a spur-of-the-moment craving for reciprocated passion? 

He glances at the mirror and hurriedly swipes at his upper lip, furiously rubbing the sticky residue away. The door swings open again; he hides his hand behind his back. “Noon- ah?”

“Nope,” Jihoon says good-humoredly. “You look so weird. What’s going on?”

“What are you doing here?” he asks, purposely evading the question.

He walks over, looks at Soonyoung funny. “It’s almost your turn for makeup,” he says. “What happened to your hair?” He reaches up, smoothes over the deviant strands, lips pursing as he concentrates.

“I don’t know,” he lies awkwardly.

“Ay, don’t make it so obvious when you lie,” Jihoon says, eyes now resting on Soonyoung’s incriminating mouth. “If you’re going to lie, do it well.”

“Well, I’m sorry I’m such a paragon of honesty,” he grumbles, turning away from Jihoon’s scrutiny.

Jihoon softens. Soonyoung senses it more than hears it, when he speaks. “No,” he amends. “I like that about you. You’re easy to read. But be careful.” And with his warning, Jihoon whisks out of the room.

He checks in the mirror again as he’s leaving for make-up. His mouth is nearly evidence-free. 

(5)

Lyric-writing with Jihoon is one of his favorite pastimes.

He’s recently loosened his possessive grip on his fancy equipment and Soonyoung is taking advantage of the resources as often as he can. Whenever he has the opportunity, he scrambles to knock loudly on the door and beg to listen to Jihoon’s latest work. He feels like a child, tripping his own feet to spend an extra ten minutes in the Universe Factory, but those ten minutes are well worth the second of sober self-reflection that visits him before sleep.

Today Jihoon is writing lyrics. He had mentioned in passing last week that he wanted to write something about first kisses and Soonyoung, giddy at the thought of joining Jihoon in the very first few steps of crafting a new song, had resolved to visit everyday in hopes of catching Jihoon in a generous mood.

The composer had been at first wary of Soonyoung’s sudden interest in production but relaxed once Soonyoung explained that he desperately wanted to see his name in tiny letters under one of the track names. Now, he was more than willing to accommodate that little greed, which was a relief. Soonyoung would feel kind of embarrassed if he had to explain that he really just wanted to know about Jihoon’s process and participate in it however he could. And he didn’t want to do it by himself or under someone else. Sue him.

The heady violet lights submerge the pair in an intimate atmosphere, suitable for sharing anecdotes and ideas. Jihoon spins idly in his chair and Soonyoung sinks into the sofa, bouncing his leg. Have you ever kissed anyone, Jihoon had asked, and although he’s shy he’s eager to comply with whatever Jihoon requests.

“My first kiss was Coups-hyung,” he admits. Jihoon stops spinning abruptly, then resumes clumsily. “I kissed him. We were in one of the company’s tiny practice rooms, remember those? During our training period.”

Jihoon makes an unintelligible noise. “Seungcheol? Seriously?”

“It really was,” Soonyoung insists, misinterpreting Jihoon’s disgruntled surprise for sarcastic disbelief. “Look, I liked him then, okay? He was the first person to obviously care about me and I couldn’t help it… And you know he’s handsome...”

“Yeah,” Jihoon absorbs, eyebrows furrowing. “So, um, what was it like?”

“Wet…”

He scrunches up his nose. “Ew.”

“We were both crying, I think,” he clarifies.

“Oh. Nevermind. Um, any other kisses?”

Soonyoung thinks back, skimming over the years he’s been with his members. It sure has been a long time, he realizes, with the same people practically every hour of every day. “Seungkwan, on my birthday once… wait, let me think…”

Jihoon looks scandalized. “Just how many kisses have you had? When did you find the time? Damn.” He, too, thinks back, wonders how Soonyoung had received so many different kisses on so many different occasions when all he can recall is being with Soonyoung all the time. Soonyoung bounding to Jihoon’s side, to shower him in compliments. Soonyoung bringing food or coffee to the studio and sticking around to hear previews. Soonyoung lying on the floor of his room, neither boy speaking but each just scrolling on their phones. It’s easy to think of individual moments when they had been apart, but hard to think of a time when they hadn’t been together.

Jihoon’s never kissed anyone. It’s one of the reasons why he’s so willing to let Soonyoung talk about his kisses—he has no references of his own for this song. He supposes he’s had opportunities, but it had never been the right time. Never the right person. That was what he had told himself. He didn’t even have any desire to kiss the people he had been with. It usually didn’t bother him, but sitting there, listening to Soonyoung count his kisses on his fingers, stewing in apparent jealousy not of Soonyoung but of Seungcheol and Seungkwan and Minghao and Jeonghan... 

Soonyoung concludes his summary with the dawning realization that Jihoon has been staring directly at him for the past two minutes. His voice wavers; he grows increasingly aware of how the purples and blues paint Jihoon in vivid, unreal hues. How, with the soundproofing and the desktop fan whirring away, they are isolated, and Jihoon’s lips reflect a soft, patient pink in spite of the vibrant lighting scheme.

“Can I be fifth?” Jihoon asks suddenly, hoarsely, roughly. His hands are clenched in his lap, fingernails digging into his joggers. “Your fifth kiss, I mean. Can I kiss you?”

Soonyoung leans forward, compelled by the sincerity in Jihoon’s eyes and his own longing to touch Jihoon, be with Jihoon. As the distance dwindles his eyes fall shut and every sense is dulled save for the heat on his mouth. Not cold and wet, not cautious and timid, not drenched in affection, not smeared with desperation. Just a loyal, unflinching warmth that spreads through his body, inducing his hands to fumble for Jihoon’s chest, seek the nape of his neck. Jihoon kisses at a pace driven by an unearthed yearning: persistent but indulgent, like rays of the sun kissing the earth.

  
  


(6+)

After they part and both are left meeting each other’s eyes awkwardly, Soonyoung tells him shyly, fact hot, “I quite enjoyed my fifth kiss.”

“And I my first.” Jihoon smiles. “Your first five kisses were all different people, right?”

He confirms it with a nod.

“Well, your sixth kiss belongs to me, and your seventh, and all the kisses that are to come.” The bold statement leaves Soonyoung breathless. Jihoon adds, “If you’ll have me, that is. As a boyfriend?”

“Of course I will,” Soonyoung says immediately. “Um, I like you. Have we established that yet?”

Jihoon joins him on the couch and leans into his shoulder, kissing his cheek. “I like you too. Very much.” He kisses his jaw. “I like you.” He kisses his chin. “I like you.” He kisses the very tip of his nose. “I like you.” He pulls away, tilts his head playfully. “Have I established that yet?”

Soonyoung pushes Jihoon down on the couch, pinning him down with their foreheads pressed together, lips an atom’s radius away. “Yes, you have,” he growls under his breath, his mouth landing on Jihoon’s in his sixth and Jihoon’s second kiss. Jihoon laughs from under him and kisses back until they have beyond doubled their former kiss-count.

**Author's Note:**

> title from the everly brothers' song of the same name
> 
> me on my ksy/everyone agenda to absolutely no one's surprise!!  
> i didn't know if i would ever finish/post this but i kinda enjoyed the process of writing it so here i am! i tried to not worry abt the word count (...obviously...) and i think maybe it's truer to my writing style now... idk. do i even have a writing style????  
> thanks for reading! hope you enjoyed <3
> 
> twitter (main, carat things): kaozumes  
> twitter (only fic things): moonjunseyo  
> haha i actually posted the seungkwan part on my fic twt before i decided to flesh out the whole work... if u like those things follow me ;-)


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